


58

by gamblers



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Bad Sex, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamblers/pseuds/gamblers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trade secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	58

**Author's Note:**

> supplementary tags  
>  **pairing** akashi/kise  & some brodorima  
>  **warnings** blowjabs, slutty kise, seems pretty pointless to warn for purple prose at this point  
>  **notes** not a sad story!! kinda. lapsing back into shitty present tense because i'm a sloth =__= also kind of made up the plot as i went along, so basically i am sorry if you expected any quality from me  
> 

*

 

Akashi quits basketball after high school. Doesn't so much as quit it as he breaks up with it, really, forwards an informal letter of disassociation tastefully limited to three vernacular disputables, leaves the voicemails untouched in his inbox with the morning dew, sends the last of his paper flowers to mend any extraneous heartaches.

It's a clean break. His fingers twitch a little when he doesn't watch himself, but he's encountered more critical forms of withdrawal in his time, and quitting basketball pales in comparison to the laundry list of terrible things he's committed himself to in the past, by proxy or otherwise. By the end of his first year in university he finishes catching small breaths of fresh air with his fingers and quickly surrenders the rest of his efforts to searching for a part-time job, moving out of his house, refusing money from his parents, and leaving memories of the basketball court to scatter into the ocean. His relapses are few and far between, because he knows when to exercise self-control and when to nurture a bit of superficial indulgence by immersing himself in other similarly-useless activities.

Either way, nobody sees it coming except Kise.

"But why would they, anyway, they don't know you like I do," he tells Akashi, justifying it in a way that does not justify anything. As if he could even hope to be correct about Akashi, ever. What an idea.

" _Nobody_ knows me like I do, Ryouta," says Akashi. He pulls out a chair and sits down at his desk. "I am the only one w--"

"Whoa, careful! That's thin ice. Another step and you'll start to sound like Aominecchi."

Akashi bristles. "Don't be absurd. I was the one who taught Daiki such a ridiculous concept, in the first place." One of the better mistakes he'd made in middle school.

"No, it's for my sake, for my sake! Don't ruin the mood, please. I'll be very unhappy if you do."

At present, Kise is not wearing a shirt. His head is tilted back and he is sprawled across Akashi's bed in a most offensively provocative manner, stroking himself through his jeans with an idle hand, staring at Akashi the whole time with a terrifically lewd expression on his face. His gaze is lazy and lustful and his attention flickers a bit in the haze of the room; licks his lips distractedly until they're gleaming wet. He's thinking about sex. And maybe umbrellas, but mostly about sex. Akashi regards this all empirically and tries to telepathically project how much he is not interested in Kise's intentions, at all.

"I am going to complete my calculus assignment," he tells Kise.

"That's fine," says Kise. "I'm going to suck your dick."

This is apparently not up for debate. When Akashi picks up his pen, Kise slides off the bed.

He scrapes his knees against the tatami when he leans downward and unzips Akashi's pants, pulling down the waistband of Akashi's boxers with one clean swipe. He is definitely thinking about umbrellas now, as his fingers work into Akashi's skin with surprising ease. Doesn't say anything when he closes his mouth over Akashi's cock, makes small work of the sucking, his head moving in a rhythm that is more bemused than intentionally playful. His fingers stroll along Akashi's abdomen quietly, stroking the skin there and making Akashi's thoughts fall against each other. Akashi shifts his gaze downward, and immediately wishes that he hadn't looked. Kise's cheeks are hollowed out, his breathing comes in short puffs of air as he dips his head, and the noises he's making would be ten times more obscene if his mouth hadn't been full of Akashi's dick. The way he sucks Akashi is deliberately dirty, the motion of it deliberately erotic, premeditated lust deliberately scribbled all over his face. Heat wells up inside Akashi's body and shoots all the way down to his belly.

Kise takes a small break from sucking to lick a hot, wet stripe up the entire length of Akashi's cock, and Akashi allows himself to make a small sound, drops the pen he'd held for all of five seconds, closes his eyes and curls his fingers into Kise's hair. His hips buck up and Kise holds him down, amusement in his eyes. Kise's tongue is slick and it burns as he flicks the tip of it over Akashi's slit, stars fall and Akashi's fingers tighten their grip in his hair. A hand cups around his balls and teases them, rough and sharp movements contrasting with softer, more tender strokes of the tongue. A wet _schlick_ , as Kise wraps his fingers around the base of Akashi's cock and _pulls_. Akashi bites down hard on his own lips to keep from crying out loud, thrusts his hips forward into Kise's deliciously cruel mouth.

It is raining outside.

He comes, a strangled groan leaving his mouth before he can stop himself, and Kise swallows all of it, wipes his mouth with his hand afterward and runs his tongue over his lips. His other hand has yet to let go of Akashi's dick.

"Ahh~, my jeans are dirty again. I wonder if Midorimacchi would have done what I just did. Makes you wonder, huh?"

"Are you happy now?" he breathes out.

Kise sits back on his haunches and considers the question for a minute.

"I'm always happy, Akashicchi. But the question is, are you happy?"

 

 

*

 

 

There are fifty-eight different ways this could go wrong, is what Midorima thinks, when he sees Akashi for the first time in three years, ten feet away from the park bench with his head tilted up toward the sky. There are fifty-eight different ways this could go wrong, and that's not even counting Midorima himself.

Akashi is fully aware of Midorima's presence, of course, because that's the kind of thing Akashi has always been good at. He will no doubt be the one who approaches Midorima first. He will extend his condolences for not having spoken to Midorima for three years, and then he will ask after the rest of Midorima's family. He will object to Midorima returning any and all of these pleasantries, make polite conversation until there is only a thin film separating the undeveloped animosity between the two of them, and this is where he will expect Midorima to make tactical retreat, ask for water before drinking the coffee himself. Midorima knows this. They've played shougi together for that long.

"Shintarou," says Akashi. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He has no peace offering to speak of, and that only serves to dampen the situation. Midorima swallows. "Akashi," he nods. "How have you been?"

"I am well."

They stare at each other for a moment. Midorima opens his mouth to say something, anything, chokes on the words before they can fall out by themselves, why did you quit what were you thinking how could you leave did you ever even _care_ , but the expression on Akashi's face silences him. It is an awful silence.

"It was the winning," Akashi finally says, his voice flat.

"Y-Yes?"

"I became tired of it."

"Tired of it?"

"Tired of it."

"I see."

"That is all there is to it, Shintarou."

 

 

*

 

 

It's supposed to be a photoshoot with yourself. He's supposed to line his cards up in a diamond pattern and strike poses against a green screen. There are small pieces of tape marked up next to where he is supposed to stand and hold the props, so that he will be playing jump rope with himself and going to the cinema with himself and feeding himself pieces of cake and draping Marimekko curtains over himself after they run it through some shitty Photoshop. It is all very magical, and certainly the studio's worst idea yet.

The advertising director bullies him a bit, for the sake of the photographs and for the sake of self-worth in the miserable ranks of indoctrinated workplace hierarchy. "Sexier, you need to go sexier," he tells Kise, as if that really explains anything at all, because Kise doesn't want to _go_ anywhere. The saxophone music doesn't help either, but it's never helped. He requests a minute to gather his thoughts, takes some time to recall the look on Akashi's face when he had come inside Kise's mouth last night, and works the next fifty-eight frames this way. The director approves. It's a trade secret.

He receives a call from Midorima after his shoot.

"I saw Akashi today. He spoke with me this time."

"Oh good, it's Midorimacchi," says Kise. "I was just about to tell you about how I nearly got a hard-on from thinking about Akashicchi during my shoot! It was awesome."

"Can we not do this," says Midorima. "Please. I wanted to have a proper conversation with you."

"About what? Don't come whining to me about how Akashicchi won't talk to you, OK, because we both know whose fault that is, ne."

A pause.

"I only wished to inquire after his basketball," says Midorima. "Because I'm assuming that it is still, how do you say it?, his _thing_. We are all assuming that it is still his _thing_. Does he let you play with him now? Is that how it works?"

Kise rolls his eyes. "I wish he'd let me play with him. If you know what I mean."

"I really, really hope that I do not know what you mean."

"You know, like when I tie him to his chair and pop the buttons of his shirt off with my teeth, one by o--"

Midorima hangs up on him.

 

 

*

 

 

Akashi finds Kise in his room again on Thursday, his expensive coat draped over a chair and all the light switches flipped on in the kitchen.

"You need to stop breaking into my apartment."

"You need to stop hiding your spare key under the left flower pot," Kise grins. He bounds over to Akashi and kisses him on the mouth. "Welcome home, Akashicchi! I bought a trout at the market today." He lets his fingers linger over Akashi's face, presses another kiss onto Akashi's forehead. He tastes like mint chewing gum, and his shirt smells like expensive women's perfume. Akashi frowns quietly, turns his head and breaks away from Kise's embrace. He removes his coat and hangs it on the rack. He moves Kise's coat from the chair to the rack, as well.

"Stop coming over as you please. You've got better things to do."

"I don't, actually," Kise smiles. "I'd prefer to stay here forever. It's because you're interesting, and I care about you, Akashicchi!"

"I don't understand why you choose to be so invested in my personal welfare," Akashi says dryly. "There are plenty of people out there who are better suited to your--ah, _tastes_."

"Hey, if you'd just fuck me once, I'll be out of your hair forever. That's a promise."

Akashi turns around and sets his bag down. "We've gone over this, Ryouta. I have no desire to do such a thing."

"Then I'm going to be here until the end of time. You can't angst over Midorimacchi's fat dick forever, right?"

Akashi feels his face grow hot. "He is in a committed relationship with another person. His friend from high school. How dare you even suggest such a thing."

"Ha ha," says Kise. "You're so cute when you get angry. Please have sex with me soon. And maybe over that table."

They prepare dinner together. Akashi cuts the vegetables and Kise rattles his cupboards for ingredients, flips through the contents of five different drawers until he locates the salt, where he'd left it last time. He keeps a record of the grains of salt on his fingertips, loses count after number fifty-eight, and starts the stove without turning on the fan. He steams the fish and makes a stir-fry that looks both disgusting and appetizing at the same time. They eat in the kitchen standing up, and Kise keeps talking and laughing about nothing in particular until the dishes are washed and his hands are dry. His thoughts are traced in the clouds above his head, and Akashi can see them all clearly, without trying at all.

"You want me to ask you about the girl you took home today, from the new studio," he starts, and this makes Kise shut up for a moment, at last.

"So you noticed."

"Obviously."

"Was wondering when you'd bring it up, ha ha! I was hoping to make you jealous. So maybe then you'd think I deserve a brutal fucking against the wall. Although preferably with some lube..."

Akashi runs a tired hand through his hair. "I still have work to do."

"You want me to leave?"

"Actually, I would like you to stop. Please stop coming over."

The look on Kise's face is utterly devastating. "...Y-You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

"Don't be dramatic. We were never together. And despite what you keep telling me, even a fool can see that you do not really require my help to keep your libido in check. Therefore I would like it if you stopped trying to force yourself into my life."

"Akashicchi, why do you have to be so mean!" Kise cries. "I seriously care about you. It's not just about how attractive you look when you're sexually-depraved, you know! I mean that's a factor too but obviously I'm here because you're lonely!"

"I'm _what?_ " says Akashi. "What did you just say."

Kise shrinks back a little, but he doesn't stop. "B-Because you're _lonely_ ," he says defiantly. "W-Well you _are_ , aren't you? That's why you quit basketball. It was so fucking _obvious_. I can't believe the rest of them didn't try to figure it out, I mean I was counting on Kurokocchi to approach you but I guess he's tied down with Kagamicchi, but then at least Midorimacchi should have done something about it--"

"Don't talk about Shintarou," Akashi says quietly. "Stop mentioning his name in every single sentence you say to me."

Kise sniffs. The crocodile tears in his eyes are for real now, and he wipes them away quickly with the back of his hand. "B-But it's heartbreaking! Seeing Akashicchi like this. It honestly kills me when you're so in love with Midorimacchi, and he doesn't see it at a--"

"I told you to _stop_ ," Akashi growls. "You really can't take a hint, can you?" He grabs a fistful of Kise's shirt in one hand and drags Kise's face down towards his, mashing Kise's lips against his in a surprising show of unfiltered aggression. "Talking to Shintarou all the time. Talking about Shintarou when you're with _me_. You act like it's impossible for me to become jealous, at all."

A look of disbelief dawns on Kise's face.

Akashi rolls his eyes. " _'Hey, if you'd just fuck me once, I'll be out of your hair forever. That's a promise_ ,'" he says, spitting Kise's own words back out bitterly. "Because that's _exactly_ what I want. How on earth did you guess? You are an idiot, Ryouta."

 

 

*

 

 

(The park bench is kind of dirty. Wood splinters bleed into the ground from the back, the iron legs cast in a faint tinge of green from several seasons of pickling in precipitation. The park bench is a lonely place for lonely people, and things often do not make sense until its precious bit of loneliness becomes clouded by judgment and assumptions and perilous reproach. But that is what makes a park bench a park bench, even if it is kind of dirty.)

 

 

*

 

 

It is raining when Akashi fucks Kise into the coffee table, the raindrops gather outside in small puddles and refract blades against the windows of the apartment building, criss-cross patterns give way to flickering flashbulbs give way to fifty-eight beats per minute; the saxophone music never helps. Akashi grabs at Kise's hips harshly, thrusts deep until Kise is crying out loud, his voice sore and fractured around the edges, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the smooth glass of the table. Akashi moves one hand to the front and palms Kise's cock, teases the tip of it with his thumbnail. Kise arches his back, legs trembling under the sensation sweeping across his spine. "Ah! Ah...A...ka...shi...cchi...harder, fuck me _harder_...ah, _ah_..."

The coffee table creaks.

Outside Akashi's apartment, Midorima pauses before knocking. Experience has taught him to be on guard and protect himself from the imminent dangers lurking behind Akashi's door. He presses a cautious ear to the wooden panel, listens for a full three seconds, jerks his head back when he realizes that he is witnessing more than he ever intended to. Scandalized, he backs into the opposite wall of the hallway, squeezes the plush tarantula in his left hand for added psychological sustenance.

And then he gets the fuck out of there.

 

 

 

-  
the ennnnd omg trust me when i say that i am just as perplexed as you are  
-

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> that's it you caught me my secret kink all along is just to pair kise up with every fucking character in the manga so help me god   
>  ty for reading! i like reading comments c: but i haven't porned since like 2010 so pls be gentle


End file.
